


save me

by regionals



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: "So, uh… I heard you got married a few years ago.”Tyler looks at the simple gold wedding band around his ring finger, and rotates it a bit with his thumb. “Yeah. Uh. She’s—she’s great. Has her faults and all, but she’s pretty great.”“Is that why your eye is swollen and why you did a piss poor job at covering the bruise on your face?”





	save me

**Author's Note:**

> ive been slowly working on this for over a year, a bit at a time, and i finished it a few days ago so im posting it  
> moral of the story: if ur in an abusive environment do ur best to get out of there lol
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> [yell at me on tumblr if u want](http://creion.tumblr.com/)
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> 
> edit: also before someone rides my ass about it i have no problem whatsoever with jenna i think shes lovely i think shes great but sometimes a guy has to vent ok

Tyler places a hand on his left cheek and doesn't make any moves to look up at his wife, even as she continues yelling. He's not sure what he even did to provoke her, but he's afraid of moving, since it might result in further provocation, and maybe another slap. He feels himself tumbling back into the kitchen counter as she shoves him, demanding him to speak, and he only lets out the quietest, “I'm sorry.”

She goes on, saying how sorry wasn't good enough, and Tyler continues to wonder what he even did for her to be in his face, screaming at him and shoving him, not to mention poking his chest and, eventually, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to make eye contact with sharp sapphire eyes capable of slicing him in half as if she were some sort of butcher with a smile pretty enough to seduce any sensible man.

Tyler shuts down, and waits until she gives up on trying to get him to speak to her before he comes back to. He's still standing in the kitchen, the counter digging into his back, sure to leave a bruise, phone heavy in his pocket. Okay, not that heavy, but the metaphorical weight of it is excruciating, and it only gets worse when he pulls it out and opens up a conversation with the only friend of his that doesn't personally know Jenna, and who might actually believe him if he opens up.

It's been like this for almost a third of their relationship (give or take), meaning that, for the past two or three years, Tyler's been dealing with _this._ It was small stuff at first—random bursts of anger and yelling, but she'd always come back to him, sulking, and they'd fall into bed together. Tyler has to laugh at how much a quick fuck used to be able to make him forget.

Things started escalating, though. Mostly, she just puts him down a lot, and made sure he was wrapped around her finger, seemingly dependent on her, even though, technically, she was kind of dependent on him as far as finances go. She takes and takes, and mostly, Tyler's more than happy to give, but sometimes a thank you is appreciated, you know?

She picks at him, finds things to get mad about. Hell, one time she slapped him for getting Great Value instead of the name brand of a bunch of expensive groceries. He just apologized, and forgot about it after she came to him, crying, and begging him to forgive her for the little indiscretion. _“No, no, it's fine—you weren't having the best day, and I need to learn not to be so stingy, you know?”_

Tyler slides onto the floor, hidden by the island in the kitchen, and starts typing out a message of, "I need help," to the person whose conversation he had open. _I shouldn't have to be scared of my own wife. I shouldn't have to feel like this. I shouldn't have to explain myself after every single thing I do._

Tyler presses send, and turns his phone screen off before placing his head in his hands. His face is starting to get sore, and he figures he's going to end up having a bruise there as well.

Back to the text, though—he doesn't get a response until he's in bed that night, with Jenna pressed to his side, making him forget about the fight with her warm body, seemingly soothing. Tyler's skin still crawls, and he has a deep sated feeling of _not right,_ so he makes a deal with himself—live one more night in ignorance before responding to the text message in the morning.

And morning comes. Jenna’s already up, and Tyler looks at his phone in disdain before he allows himself to sit up. He sits there, gripping the edge of his mattress with his hands, blinking deliberately slowly, breathing deeply and steadily before he finally looks up and stares at his reflection in the mirror that’s across from the bed. He can’t see himself, given he’s horribly nearsighted, so he grabs his glasses from their resting place beside the bed. Usually, he only wears them if he can’t find his contacts, needs to get more contacts, or unless he’s too lazy to put his contacts in. Right now, he’s too lazy, given he just barely woke up.

Back to the mirror, though. His lip is split, which is something he didn’t even realize. He figures her hand must’ve knocked his lip against one of his crooked teeth on his bottom jaw. He has a tendency to give both his tongue and his lips little sores from the irregularly placed teeth.

He turns his head a little bit, and, sure enough, there’s a bruise in the shape of her fingers high up on his cheekbone. It’s been a while since she’s slapped him that hard. This time it’s bad enough that he probably can’t cover it up with concealer and foundation, and he thinks that’s going to be hard to explain to his boss if it doesn’t clear up by Monday. Which it probably won’t, judging by how bad it is and how bad his head hurts.

Tyler doesn’t even bother looking at his phone again as he walks into the master bathroom. He goes through the motions of brushing and flossing his teeth, shaving the minimal amount of stubble that usually stops growing after three days, before pulling his flannel pants off, and stepping out of them. He usually doesn’t sleep with underwear or with a shirt, so the pants were all he had to peel off of himself before stepping over the side of the bath tub to go through the process of showering.

Once he’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and one draped over his head so he can dry his hair as he walks to his dresser, he picks up his phone. He doesn’t turn the screen on, but he can see the green notification light that means he has a notification from a text message. Samsung Galaxies are useful like that. Of course, he has the newest model of the Samsung Galaxy Note, since he won’t settle for anything but the biggest and the best. (Though, he skipped out on the Note 7 after hearing about the exploding batteries.)

Tyler sets his phone on his dresser as he goes through his shirt drawer. He sees the one flower button up he has, and he’s half tempted to wear it just to get under Jenna’s skin, since she thinks it makes him look queer, but he decides against it, figuring now isn’t the time to provoke her. Instead he pulls out a neatly folded up white button up, then looks into his sock drawer, trying to decide which pair he should wear.

_Maybe black, since that’s basically my mood right now… Or blue. Blue always looks good. I could go for the reindeer ones that Zack got me as a joke last year. Yeah, I’m wearing reindeer socks. It’s barely even August, but I want to wear reindeer socks._

As usual, Tyler pulls out a pair of slacks instead of the jeans he actually wants to wear. Why he dresses up like some stiff with a poker up his ass, he has no idea. It’s safe, though. It’s safe, and no one questions him. He doesn’t stand out. That’s what Tyler likes to do. He likes to blend in, go with he flow. It’s never been his game to do anything drastic.

He settles on a simple navy blue tie, and a sports coat about the same color, and Tyler waits until his black leather belt is buckled and until he’s got on his fanciest pair of dress shoes, most definitely from Prada’s winter collection from the year previous, to finally, _finally,_ look at his fucking phone.

He feels like he’s going to throw up just from reading the message preview. There wasn’t anything specific being shown, other than, _4 new messages._

He opens the application. Two messages from Jenna, telling him that, basically, she’s going out for coffee with her friends, then shopping with her friends. One from Amazon, telling him that his order consisting of belts, socks, ties, and a new charging cable for his laptop had been shipped, and that he could expect it in two days. The fourth one was a five digit number from Sprint, asking him to do a survey.

He goes to his conversation with the friend, and sees _Not sent_ next to his message, and remembers that, yeah, his house has really shitty reception. He just deletes the message, figuring that it’s a sign that he doesn’t actually need help. That this is how things are supposed to be. And that he’s just going to go into his bathroom, rifle through Jenna’s make up until he finds primer and concealer with a green tint to balance out the red, foundation that matches his skin tone, and powder to set it.

He shouldn’t have to know how to cover up the bruise from a slap, or how to cover up black eyes from conveniently misplaced fists, or busted and bruised lips from unfortunate accidents with fists and slaps and his teeth. Tyler laughs bitterly when he sees that he’s tearing up as he dabs the primer onto the bruise.

He uses the hand not dabbing concealer onto his face to wipe his eyes off. Now’s not the time to cry. He could ruin the make up. The foundation is easy, and the powder is easier. Tyler looks around the counter until he finds a can of aerosol hairspray. He heard somewhere on the internet that aerosol hairspray is good for setting make up, so he closes his eyes and sprays it on that part of his face from a safe distance.

Now, Tyler smells like hairspray, and his eye just looks suspiciously normal colored yet swollen, and he can’t really even smile since it hurts both his lip and his cheek. Not like he’d smile in the first place.

Tyler figures he should treat himself to coffee and some of those puffy sugar cookies from Walmart. God, Jenna would never let him have those cookies. Too much carbs, and they’re supposed to be on a _vegan, no carb, no sugar_ diet.

Tyler breaks it whenever he goes to work, since he’s hypoglycemic and literally _needs_ sugar in his diet, or he could have a seizure. It’s happened before. Of course, the last time it happened, Tyler was twenty, and trying to recover from an eating disorder, but, now, he’s twenty seven, and is trying to avoid having that happen _again._

He’s already feeling woozy, so he grabs his wool coat, and buttons it precisely before leaving the bedroom, and grabbing the keys to his car from the key rack next to the door that leads to the garage that’s next to the kitchen. He closes and locks the door behind him, and gently presses the button to open the garage door.

Everything about Tyler is _gentle._ He hardly ever raises his voice, and even then, it’s usually at a video game. He has _never_ hit anyone, on purpose at least. The most he’s done is accidentally elbowing one of his friends from turning around too quickly, and he’d started crying immediately after. He felt so terrible.

Tyler doesn’t even press to hard when he’s scribbling his signature onto papers, or when he’s writing out a fucking grocery list. He doesn’t slam the car door when he shuts it, he doesn’t stomp his feet when he’s angry, and he (usually) doesn’t even _swear._ Out loud, at least. In his head, he has quite the potty mouth, but out loud he’s never said anything more than a _shit_ or a _fuck_ out of reflex after stubbing his toe or hitting his elbow on something.

Tyler even has sex gently. Jenna almost _always_ begs him to be rough, but Tyler doesn’t have it in him. He’s afraid of hurting her, and, even after all of the shit she’s done to him, he still tries treating her like a princess, even though she doesn’t show the slightest bit of gratitude.

Tyler sits in his car for a few minutes once he’s in the parking lot of a Starbucks, and tips his head back against the seat, closing his eyes, breathing very softly yet deliberately. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white, then releases it. He does that a few times, before tapping it, then his right cheek, with his hands and a hand, saying, “Alright. I can do this. I just want a latte. I’m just going to go in there and order a latte. I need it anyways or I’m going to end up fainting.”

Tyler gets out of his car, slowly, cursing because, hey, he’s already feeling a little light headed, and after making sure his car is locked, he starts walking towards the entrance of the Starbucks, trying to stand tall, and proud, keeping his head high, and trying to pretend he isn’t tired, upset, and tries to pretend that he doesn’t have dangerously low blood sugar.

He orders the biggest caramel latte he can, knowing that one has the most sugar in it. Tyler’s a skinny guy, and he’s not worried about gaining weight anymore, but he just—he needs to be healthy. He wishes he didn’t have to go behind Jenna’s back to eat fucking _sugar._ He’s tried explaining it, he has, but she just tells him, “Just eat some fruit!”

Tyler doesn’t even _like_ fruit. He likes carrots and broccoli and even fucking lima beans, but he can’t handle fruit. It always goes bad too fast, it tastes too sweet to him, and he almost always gags whenever he tries eating fruit.

Tyler sits at a table away from the window, almost in a corner, sipping at the latte through a straw, when he feels a hand lightly nudging his shoulder, and someone saying, “Hey, Tyler?”

Tyler looks up, not really expecting someone to _know_ him. Tyler cringes, almost, when he sees that it’s _Josh._ Of course, it’s Josh. He’s the friend that Tyler had tried texting. “Uh. Hey, man. It’s—it’s been a while.”

Josh grins a half grin, saying, “Yeah, man. Mind if I sit?”

“Uh, no, not at all. Make yourself at home.” Tyler gestures to the seat across from him, and Josh smiles again, wider this time, and sits.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since before we graduated high school.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been—I’ve been okay. Been better, been worse. Decided to treat myself to some coffee. Gonna go binge on those sugar cookies from Walmart later.”

“What happened to your, uh, your lip?” Josh gestures towards his own bottom lip with a finger.

“Oh—I uh—had a little incident.” He shows Josh the teeth on his bottom jaw. “Lip caught on my teeth after I hit it against something.” _More like after something hit against it._

Josh doesn’t look like he quite believes Tyler. “Ah, sucks, I guess.”

“It’s fine. How’ve you been?”

“Got into an art school, dropped out, and now I’m working part time at a Guitar Center and a Subway trying to pay off my debt, and trying to restore some health to my horribly fried hair. Other than that, though, I’ve been alright. So, uh… I heard you got married a few years ago.”

Tyler looks at the simple gold wedding band around his ring finger, and rotates it a bit with his thumb. “Yeah. Uh. She’s—she’s great. Has her faults and all, but she’s pretty great.”

“That why your eye is swollen and why you did a piss poor job at covering the bruise on your face?” Josh gestures towards his cheek.

“Uh. _Fuck_. Is it bad?”

“Don’t think anyone else would notice, but I’ve done stage make up for a while now, and I—I do drag. I know what a covered up bruise looks like.”

“Shit. I texted you last night, but it never sent.” Tyler rests his forehead in his hand. “I was going to ask if you’d help me. You’re the only one who doesn’t know her personally. I thought it was a sign that I—I didn’t need out.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” Josh says quietly as he looks down into his own drink. “I walked here. Think I could come with you to Walmart? I need groceries anyways. It’ll give you a few hours out of the house, I guess.”

“That’s why I tried texting you, y’know.” Tyler blows a breath out through his nose.

“Why’s that? Wanted me to go to Walmart with you?” Josh gives him a bittersweet smirk.

“No. It’s because you’re nice. I remember you took me to an emergency room in high school because some… some _guy_ punched me and broke my nose. We weren’t even _friends,_ but you did that. I still think about that sometimes, even though it was over a decade ago.”

“Your nose was bleeding real bad, dude. It was either me or they call an ambulance. Figured I was the less embarrassing and dramatic choice.”

Tyler huffs a bit. “Still. That meant a lot to me.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tyler. Anyways, you want to finish that drink in your car…?”

“Uh. No. She’d have my head if I drank anything in my car. It’s a Cadillac.”

“And you have a half finished latte. I’m already done with my hot chocolate. If you want to drink in _your_ car, then do it, man.”

Tyler picks at the lid to the latte, before saying. “Alright. If it spills, though, I’m blaming you.”

“Feel free. I think I can take on a hundred and ten pound twenty four year old.”

“You _know_ who my wife is?”

“I have you added on Facebook, dude. She’s always posting shit on your wall. Anyways, _c’mon.”_ Josh is up now, not touching Tyler this time, but looking at him expectantly.

Tyler grabs his arm as he stands up, and he leads the way out of the shop, slowly. Josh follows, and Tyler can see the way Josh goes to help him balance, but stops himself once in a while. Tyler rolls his eyes. “Josh, I’m not going to break if you grab my arm to help balance me.”

Josh coughs awkwardly, but holds onto Tyler’s arm as they walk to his car. Tyler unlocks the doors, and Josh gets into the passenger’s seat. Josh looks around the car, and says, “Wow. Okay. This is real nice. The last time I was in a Cadillac I was making out with some girl who has millionaires for parents.”

“Well, I’m a lawyer, and I represent celebrities and rich business men who got caught doing illegal shit with the stock market, meaning I make upwards of three hundred grand a year if not more.”

Josh’s jaw drops and his eyes widen. _“Fuck,_ be my sugar daddy. _Please.”_

Tyler gives him a quick once over. “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh, god, dude, I was kidding.”

“I’m gay, so it’s… tempting.”

Josh makes some high-pitched shrieking noise. “No fucking way. Why the hell are you married to a girl?”

“Peer pressure from my family. Never had the nerve to come out.”

“Shit. That sucks.”

Tyler nods slightly.

“Okay, Tyler, enough—enough joking around. Do you actually want me to help you?”

Tyler looks at him, looking genuinely scared, but says, “I want to say no, and I want to play it safe, but, yeah. I—I need help out of this. Last night wasn’t the worst of it, but it was my last straw.”

Josh nods, and has a pensive look on his face as he looks out of the window in front of him. “What’s she like? _Actually_ like? You don’t gotta tell me, but I might be able to provide some insight. Had an abusive boyfriend a while back.”

“I wish I didn’t _fucking_ trust you right off the bat. Christ.” Tyler runs his hands through his hair, and balls his fists up, pulling at it. “I’m hypoglycemic and she has both of us on a vegan, no carb, no sugar diet, and I used to be bad enough that I’d have seizures. I also had an eating disorder but—fuck. I have to go _behind her back_ to have anything with sugar in it. That’s why I’m all wobbly and not able to stand up straight, and it’s why I’m using the four hours she’s going to be out of the house to go to a _fucking_ Walmart to get a six pack of those _fucking_ sugar cookies.”

“You should go for an eighteen pack, man,” Josh says, looking at him with an empathetic look.

Tyler manages to maintain his composure for a grand total of thirty seconds before starting to cry, gently repeating, _“God fucking damn it,”_ over and over as he starts hitting his palms against his forehead and kicking his feet slightly.

Josh reaches over and grabs his hands. “Tyler, _Tyler,_ you need to calm down. You can freak out and have your panic attack later, but I think, right now, we should go to that Walmart, and get you some freakin’ cookies, and then hang out and watch some shitty TV show at your house. If I’m allowed, of course.”

Tyler just wipes at his eyes and hits his steering wheel weakly. “You’re _allowed._ I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you for this, man.”

“Don’t start with that shit, Tyler. You don’t get to decide my feelings and whether or not I want to help. You need out of that. You—you shouldn’t have to know how to cover _bruises,_ and your damn lip shouldn’t be split, and you shouldn’t be scared of your fucking wife, and you shouldn’t be on a diet that has no sugar. We are going to _go to Walmart,_ and you’re going to get the biggest pack of those sugar cookies that you want, and we are going to park our asses on your couch, then we’re going to watch whatever show you want, and if she says anything, you’re going to tell her off. Well, probably not _off,_ and you probably shouldn’t be rude, but you get me, man.”

“The last time I smarted off to her or talked back was three years ago and she slapped me across the face and gave me a black eye. And it was also the first time she slapped me. She apologized, we slept together, and I forgot about it. Not like I’m going to repeat that incident.”

“But you’re gay…?”

“And I’m married. It’s not like I don’t _like_ the sex, but I don’t—I’ve never loved her like I should, man.”

“Have you ever slept with another guy before?” Josh asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah. I made out with my best friend once, though, and it was—it was better than anything I’ve ever done with any girl, and it didn’t even go below the hips.”

“Well, if you weren’t married, I’d make an offer.” Josh wiggles his eyebrows and smirks when Tyler goes red.

“I’d accept, but now’s not the time. I don’t even know what I should do.” Tyler lets his head fall back.

“You want me to tell you what I really think you should do aside from eating some cookies?”

“Am I going to like it?”

“Probably not.”

“Tell me.”

“I think that we should go to your house for a while so you can eat some of the cookies, and I think you should find a make up wipe and take the make up off your face, and after that I think you should pack up as many clothes as you might need, anything you need for work, and whatever else, then I think you should call 911. You have bruises on your face, a split lip, and even a black eye starting to form, or already formed. I can’t tell.”

“I have an album on my phone that I started about a year and a half ago with more pictures, by the way.”

“I hate to say it, but that’s—that’s good.”

“I’m a lawyer. I know. Also, I have a pretty nasty bruise on my back from being shoved into the counter in my kitchen.”

“Are you on board with that plan, Tyler?”

“I want to say no, but I’m afraid it’s going to escalate some day. I mean, I’ll probably be fine because I’m a lawyer, I have money, and—would you—would you testify against her if I needed you to?”

“Once hundred percent.”

Tyler takes a deep breath, and ends up having to give Josh his keys and get into the passenger’s seat since he’s shaking a little too much and he feels a little too faint to be driving. He gives Josh the directions to the nearest Walmart, and once there, he gives the man his debit card and tells him his pin. (Tyler knows he shouldn’t, but he’s close to having a panic attack, and figures going into a store isn’t going to help.)

Josh comes back about ten or fifteen minutes later with the cookies and he apologizes for it, but, he’d also gotten the man a pack of M&M’s. Tyler tells him not to sweat it, and after giving Josh directions to his house, Josh says, “If you want, I think it might be safer to go to an emergency room. At least, that’s what I did. I also had a broken nose, and a, uh, few other complications, but it’d like… It would further document anything that happened. If you call police, though, get their names and badge numbers.”

Tyler nods, and opens the pack of candy, popping a few into his mouth.

“I’ll help you get things packed, if you want. Just—listen—I don’t take shit like this lightly.”

“How are you not… freaking out?”

“Oh, trust me, on the inside I am, but I have a high dose of Xanax in my system. Prescribed, of course.”

“Oh. Could you look at the bruise on my back and see how bad it is? I couldn’t see it too well in the mirror when I showered this morning. If you think it’s bad enough, I might go with the emergency room idea.”

Josh just nods, and continues driving. Tyler stares into space, eating M&M’s once in a while, breathing deliberately, and is almost confused when Josh nudges him in the arm to ask if he was at the correct house. Tyler looks at he house for a moment, before confirming that it is his. Josh whistles lowly before getting out of Tyler’s car, and walking around the passenger’s side to help him out. He’s a little more balanced now, but he still holds onto the sleeve of Josh’s jacket as he leads the man into his house.

“Christ, Tyler. This is—this is a nice house.”

Tyler nods, and kicks his shoes off by the door, and takes his wool coat off before hanging it on the coat rack, making a note to put it in its spot in his room before Jenna gets home and rags on him for it. “Uh. What now?”

“Cookies. Eat some of them.”

“Shit. I forgot.”

“It’s cool, bro. Where’s your living room at?”

“Can’t eat in there. That’s just—that’s a preference of mine, by the way.”

“Ah, alright.” He follows Tyler as the man leads the way through his kitchen. Josh opens the plastic box containing the cookies, and takes one for himself before sliding it over the island towards Tyler.

Tyler takes one, and takes his time eating it. He’s about halfway through his third one when he hears the garage door opening. His eyes widen, and he stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth and in almost record time, he has the box of cookies closed and stuffed into the back of the cabinet that he’s standing in front of. “She fucking came back early. Fuck.”

“It’s chill, Tyler.” Josh watches the door that leads into the house from the garage, and he’s thrown off at the pretty blonde who walks in. She gives him horrible vibes in the first place, even worse now that he knows what’s been happening in the Joseph household.

“Uh.” Her eyes flick over to where Tyler’s standing at the counter. “Who’s this?”

“His name’s Josh. We went to high school together.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Also, you should put your coat away,” She says, almost meekly, and Josh squints at her once her back is turned to them to get something off of the counter. “Where did this Josh come from? Didn’t see a car out front.”

“My parents live a few streets over, and I figured I’d walk over to bullshit with Tyler since I haven’t seen him in a few years,” Comes his smooth response. It’s a total lie—his parents live in Columbus, not New York.

She makes some noise of affirmation, and says, “I would’ve stayed out longer, but one of my friends had to go home, so shopping didn’t happen. Unfortunately,” to Tyler.

“Sorry about that, hon.”

She waves her hand dismissively before turning back around. “I’m going to go watch some TV. The two of you should join me.” She smiles. She smiles and looks _so_ friendly and it really gets under Josh’s skin.

Once she’s out of earshot, Josh lowers his voice, saying, “Is she faking it?”

Tyler shrugs. “Can’t tell. She’s like that most of the time. Uh.” He looks in the direction that his wife had gone in, and lowers his voice as he says, “Can we—can we go to my bedroom? Can’t be heard from there.”

Josh nods, and follows Tyler up his stairs, and through the hallway until they’re standing at a door that can only be the man’s bedroom. Tyler walks in, and, as he has been for the past few minutes, Josh follows him in. Tyler closes the door behind him, then says, “What the fuck do I do now? I was expecting her to be out for another two and a half hours.”

“Can you get from your bedroom and to your car without her seeing you?”

“I mean, she didn’t see us going up the stairs, so as long as she stays in the living room, yeah.”

“Okay, uh...” Josh lets out a breath that puffs his cheeks up, before he slowly lets it out. “Like, I said, pack clothes and whatever you’re going to need for work, and any other essentials. I can help carry things if you need me to. I think taking you to an emergency room would be the safer choice right now. Grab make up wipes too, and I’ll clean your face off in your car.”

Tyler nods. “Uh. My back. Would you look at it?”

Josh nods, and motions for Tyler to take his shirt off. Tyler pulls his tie off, unbuttons the shirt shakily, and lets his fall off of his shoulders before turning around. Tyler winces at the way Josh lets out a small hissing noise. “Yeah, I’m—I’m taking you to an emergency room. That’s a pretty nasty bruise. Christ.”

Tyler swallows and nods, and hands Josh his button up while he goes over to his dresser to get a plain black sweatshirt. One without a hood, of course. He puts it on, and walks over to his closet, scanning it, until spotting the suitcase that he rarely uses unless he has to travel for work. He drags it out, and Josh takes it from him to set it on the man’s bed. Tyler mumbles, “Unzip it,” before going back to his closet and pulling out two suits. That’s the _least_ he will need.

He rifles through his dresser, and gets out ten outfits, thanking the lord the suitcase is big. He goes and gets his prescription for Wellbutrin and tosses it into his suitcase as well. He asks Josh to close it, before walking over to the place in the room that he keeps the bag that he usually puts his laptop in when he needs to travel.

“My laptop is in a different room.”

“Which one?”

“Office. It’s near the stairs.”

“Go get it, then. I can wait.”

Tyler sighs once again, and obeys. It doesn’t take long before he has everything he’d need packed. “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Where would I even stay?”

Josh blanks. “Shit. I didn’t think of that. Uh. Do you have any family…?”

“Columbus.”

“Ah, right. You’re from Columbus too. I forgot.”

“Any friends…?”

“None that don’t know her very well, besides you.”

“And my apartment is really shitty.”

“How shitty?”

“Like, not that shitty, but the walls are thin and it’s a basement apartment, since it’s all I could afford. It’s clean and all and I have alright furniture. Two bedrooms one bath.”

“I may live in a big house, but I’m—I’m not really that sophisticated, honestly. Is it too much to ask…?”

Josh shakes his head immediately. “Dude, no, not at all. I wouldn’t be helping if I wasn’t willing to do everything in my power to make sure you’re alright.”

Tyler nods. “Funny that we both moved to New York, and you just happened to see me at Starbucks.”

“Yeah, it’s a coincidence. Anyways, you want to get going…?”

“Yeah. Uh. The suitcase has wheels, and I’m… I’m not really that strong…? It’d make noise and might get her attention.”

“And I only have about five percent body fat. Don’t sweat it, dude.”

Tyler takes a few minutes to close his eyes, and breathe, trying to get his pulse to go back down to a normal level.

“Do you want a hug, Tyler…? You look like you could use one.”

Tyler’s expecting Josh to look uncomfortable when he opens his eyes, but he just looks genuinely concerned. Tyler nods and let’s the man hug him, and he tears up a little bit but Josh is soothingly running his hand over his head, being careful not to mess his hair up.

Getting out of the house is easy enough. Tyler just tells her that he’s going to take Josh home and that he’s going to be out for a while running a few errands. Josh gets to drive again, but before leaving, he takes the make up wipes from Tyler, and opens the container to grab one. He takes the man’s chin in his hand, and gently starts wiping his face. As more and more make up comes off, Josh’s face grows more and more grim and Tyler asks, “How bad is my face?”

“Pretty, uh, pretty bad, Tyler. You’ve got a little bruise around your mouth from the split lip, and the bruise from the slap is pretty purple. Uh. Look in the mirror, I guess.” Josh points to the mirror outside of Tyler’s window, and Tyler’s eyes widen.

“Jesus. I—fuck. That’s bad. That’s really bad.”

“I know, Tyler.”

“Wait—shit—her debit card. She has a debit card for my bank account. What if she withdraws everything?”

“You can only usually withdraw five hundred to two thousand at a time from an ATM. How much is in your account?”

“About six hundred thou, but still.”

“Does she have her own bank account?”

“No. I’m in charge of finances and she can’t get into my bank account, but she has a debit card, man.”

“Okay, well, do you want to drive to your bank and cancel it…?”

“I think, yeah. Still going to an emergency room later?”

“Of course.”

Tyler tells him which bank he uses, and Josh gives him a thumbs up before he gets to driving. They spend half an hour there, and don’t have too much trouble getting the card canceled after Tyler shakily explains what’s going on.

And then, finally, Josh drives to the nearest hospital. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go in there, you’re going to tell the receptionist that you need help, and that it’s an _emergency._ Whenever a nurse comes to get you, you’re going to tell them _exactly_ how you got the bruises on your face and your back. When asked, of course. You’re probably going to be asked if you want to speak to a police officer or something along the lines of that, and you’re going to say yes. You’ll be questioned, and I’ll probably be questioned too, and it’s required that they file a report for domestic abuse, and you’ll probably be asked if you want to press charges, and you’re going to say _yes._ After that, there will probably be a warrant for her arrest, and she’s going to have a _fit,_ most likely, but you’re a lawyer, you have the resources to get a really good lawyer for yourself. She’s probably going to have one appointed to her by the state, since I’m assuming she doesn’t have enough money to get one herself.”

Tyler nods. “Can you stay with me? I feel like I’m going to wuss out of it if you’re not there.”

“Of course. You’ll probably have an x-ray done on your back, since, like I said, that’s a _really_ nasty bruise. Just, by the way. You can do this, man. I got you.”

They’re at the emergency room for six hours, mostly waiting for things to happen, Tyler _almost_ has a few panic attacks, but Josh talks him down with ease each time it’s about to happen, and before they know it, they’re at Josh’s apartment, and Josh is showing him the extra bedroom.

“S’not much, but the mattress is alright, and there’s alright closet space. Don’t really got anywhere for your laptop besides your lap or my coffee table, but, uh, yeah. My room’s across the hall, and it’s a mess, since I wasn’t really expecting to, uh, have this happen today, but. You know. Not much in the fridge either, since we forgot groceries at Walmart, and since that really wasn’t the first thing on my mind, but I could find the money to order a pizza.”

Tyler sniffles and wipes at his nose as he sets his laptop case on the bed that looks suspiciously comfortable. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, and hands Josh his debit card. “Order whatever you want from Pizza Hut. Be reasonable, though. I like cheese, light sauce, and stuffed crust, and diet Mountain Dew is generally my soda choice,” He rambles out softly and shakily.

Josh clicks his tongue almost silently and steps over to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “I’ll order two medium pizzas and two liters of soda for us.”

“Bread sticks too, man. Can’t be pizza night without bread sticks.

“Pizza night?”

“It’s pizza night now, Josh. Go order pizza.” Tyler waves him off so he can unzip his suitcase. He rifles through it until he finds the bottle that has his antidepressants in it, and until he can find a pair of pajama pants. There isn’t a mirror in this bedroom, so he can’t watch himself get undressed. It’s part of his ritual for whatever reason.

He pokes around the back of Josh’s apartment until he finds the bathroom, and he looks at himself in the mirror after flicking the lights on and closing the door. The bruise is still bad and his eye his more swollen than it was that morning. Not swollen enough to close up, but swollen enough to hurt if he makes any sort of facial expression. His lip is still split and nothing is going to change that.

He turns around and cranes his head back over his shoulder, and has to stand up on his toes to see his back. The bruise is—it’s pretty bad. It’s a little yellow and a little blue and purple and red and so many colors that Tyler can’t even _begin_ to list them. Okay, he did just list them, but it’s one of the worst bruises he’s had and his back hurts more than he’d like to admit.

He just sighs, exits the bathroom, and retrieves his phone from the room Josh had let him lay claim to before walking back out into the main area. The apartment is kind of homey, honestly. The lighting from outside is kind of dim, since the windows are real high up on the ceiling, and the lights themselves on the ceiling aren’t too bright in the first place.

The walls are an off white matte that Tyler kind of likes better than the beige that covers his own house. Tyler, honestly, hates beige, but Jenna insisted that it looked good. Josh’s TV isn’t anything fancy—just a thirty two inch flat screen from probably around 2010 if Tyler had to guess just from looking at it.

The kitchen… It’s small. So small. It’s small enough that Tyler could probably fit it in his own living room twice, but he still _likes_ it for whatever reason. Tyler knows that his own parents would hate it, since it’s small, and it’s not fancy, but Tyler just—it feels like a _home._ His house doesn’t. It just feels like a place that he’s been occupying for the past few years or so.

Josh is sitting on his couch, with his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder while he places an order at Pizza Hut, and once he finishes doing that, Tyler sits down on the man’s couch, careful not to press his back against it. Not _ten seconds_ later, his phone starts ringing, and he—he just—

“Is it a toll free number?” Josh asks.

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

Josh motions for Tyler to hand him his phone. “Probably your wife calling to ask you what the hell happened, and probably asking you to post bail. Same thing happened with my ex boyfriend. You want me to answer?”

Tyler nods.

“I’m putting it on speaker.”

Tyler nods once more.

A very pointed and angry voice asks, _“Tyler?”_ as soon as they’re past the Default Debbie asking Josh (Tyler) if he’s willing to accept any charges that may or may not apply.

Josh motions between him and Tyler, silently asking who should speak. Tyler signals that he’s going to do it, before saying, “Uh. Hey.”

“ _Would you like to explain why a_ police officer _showed up at our house to_ arrest me _on charges of_ domestic violence _and_ assault?”

Tyler points at Josh next, not really having the nerve to say anything.

The rest of the call goes as expected. Josh speaks for Tyler for the most part, and Tyler chips in once in a while to confirm that, yes, Josh is being truthful. She basically screams at Tyler through the phone, and Tyler flinches and holds Josh’s hand when it’s offered to him, gripping it hard enough to cut off circulation, and hard enough that his knuckles turn white.

“Talk to your lawyer tomorrow, Tyler,” Josh says quietly as he hands Tyler’s phone back to him. “Probably should get some sort of restraining order. Uh, with my boyfriend, a lot of shit happened, and there was a trial and all since he wouldn’t just self surrender. Her lawyer might try to cop a plea deal or something. Anyways, that process took a few months, and he was only in jail for a few days, but I had a court order saying he couldn’t be within fifty feet of me knowingly. Same thing is going to happen to you, most likely.”

“What if they toss it out since she’s a girl? She’s so small and fragile looking, and I’m kind of tall and I’m not necessarily _skinny_ but I’m not underweight and my fat is distributed in such a way that it gives off the illusion of muscle and I’m a fucking lawyer and she depends on me financially and—”

Josh puts a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Don’t get yourself worked up. Tonight, we’re going to pretend nothing’s wrong, and we’re going to eat pizza and watch whatever shitty drama is on ABC.”

Tyler swallows once and wipes at his eyes, and he goes to set his phone on the coffee table, but ends up snapping back to exactly where he’d been sitting since the movement had jostled his back. Josh takes his phone and sets it near where Tyler was going to set it, and says, “I’m going to go get you some Advil and a heating pad.”

“Wouldn’t ice be better…?”

“Ice makes your muscles constrict or whatever the word is because it’s cold. Heating pads kinda loosen them up since it’s warm. I’ve pulled enough muscles during football and had enough bruises of my own to know the drill.” Josh gently pats Tyler on the shoulder as he goes and gets the aforementioned items.

Josh unplugs one of his lamps so Tyler can use the heating pad, and after pizza and bread sticks and soda arrives, they sit there eating and making small talk, and Tyler confirms that, he does, still, in fact, have a crush on Joshua Dun.

He does end up having a panic attack, a bad one, and Josh just helps him through it. It was triggered over something seemingly stupid to most people, but not to Tyler or Josh. Someone in a TV show had gotten slapped and Tyler had told Josh to turn it off immediately. Of course, Josh had obeyed without even questioning him, and over the course of three or so minutes, Tyler had started tearing up and had let out this quiet little sob and Josh just sighed, and lifted his arm, saying, “Get over here, Tyler.”

And Tyler does, he feels so _small,_ even though he’s taller than Josh (by two inches, but still), and he just—he tucks himself into the man’s side, even though they haven’t even been talking again for more than ten hours. It’s—it’s pretty late at night now, and Tyler is tired and sleep deprived and Josh is honestly just focusing on getting him to calm down.

Tyler ends up just falling asleep with his head in Josh’s lap, and Josh doesn’t have it in him to wake the man up.

The next few days are… Well, they feel like the calm before the storm. The day after shit hit the fan, Josh blew off work, and just hung out with Tyler. The second day after shit hit the fan was Monday, meaning Tyler left Josh’s apartment early enough to go to his own home, with Josh in tow, since Josh is experienced in the art of make up, and can do a decent job at covering up bruises.

“Jenna has shitty fucking make up, Christ,” Josh mutters as he goes through her numerous make up bags. “I hate MAC so much. For one thing, they test on animals, and for another—I just—it’s overrated. I could get better shit than this at Walmart. But, we don’t have time, since you need to take me home so I can go to my job and so you can go to your own job, since you insist on going to work.”

“I’m in the middle of a huge case, Josh. I can’t just leave, and it’s not a good time to pass this off to another lawyer. Can you just—could you spare me the lecture and work on getting this bruise covered up?”

Josh nods and doesn’t say anything else as he gets to work on applying primer. Tyler winces, and Josh apologizes, but says that he’s being as gentle as he can. “Anyways, last time, your problem is that you didn’t put on a whole face, and you didn’t use anything to seal the make up other than hairspray, and don’t tell me you didn’t because I could smell it on you.”

“How do you know how to do this?” Tyler asks quietly.

“Got into drag and stage make up in my early twenties, and I’m a clumsy shit, meaning I’ve managed to get myself in the eye before, meaning black eyes, then… Well, I told you my ex boyfriend is a piece of shit. Like, Jenna level piece of shit. Got socked in the face enough to basically be an expert by now.”

“Oh, um, sorry for asking…?”

“Don’t worry about it, man. I’m mostly over it.”

Once Josh is done with Tyler’s cover-up of the bruise, the slightly younger man asks, “How deep in debt are you?”

“A little over a hundred grand,” Josh replies easily as he watches Tyler rifle through his fridge for a bit, before remembering that he’d stashed the cookies under the island.

“You have an exact amount?” And now Tyler is using his lawyer voice. There’s a distinct difference between his regular voice and his lawyer voice. His regular voice is soft, gentle, and almost timid, but his lawyer voice is intimidating, strong, and almost the exact opposite of his regular voice.

“A little below a hundred and twenty, I think. Why?”

Tyler reaches into the back pocket of his slacks, pulling out his checkbook, and grabbing a pen that’d been laying on the counter.

“Tyler, Christ, please tell me you aren’t about to do what I think you’re about to do.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Shut up and accept the gift. I probably wouldn’t have done any of this if it weren’t for you, so just let me help you in return.”

“Tyler, put that away. This isn’t conditional.”

Tyler slams his checkbook on the counter, and whirls around to look at Josh. _“I know._ I’m not an idiot, Josh. I know you wouldn’t ever dare asking for anything in exchange, and I know you don’t _expect_ anything. You’re that kind of person. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t know how to properly express gratitude other than whipping out my checkbook, so let me do this, alright?”

Tyler doesn’t even raise his voice, at all, which surprises Josh. Judging from the look on the man’s face, he was expecting to get yelled at, but Tyler’s voice was below even his speaking level. Josh just stares, in awe, at the check that gets handed to him, with the amount _‘$120,000.00’_ written on it.

“I… have spent four years, working two jobs, busting my _ass_ trying to pay off my debt, and you’re just… you’re giving me this money? You’re just—you’re _doing_ that?”

“What’s your dream job?” Tyler asks, bluntly.

“I want to be a make up artist but also a successful drag queen.”

“Use whatever is leftover to get started on that, then. If you want, I can introduce you to a buddy of mine. He’s a stockbroker, and I’m pretty sure this is illegal as all hell, but he’d be able to point you towards some companies to invest in if you needed more funds. Anyways, I need to get you home, because I need to go to work, so get your jacket and come on.”

Josh takes his wallet out while Tyler’s putting on his wool coat, and he places the check in the space where he usually keeps whatever dollar bills he usually has. On the ride to Josh’s apartment, Tyler says, “Don’t cash that unless I’m with you. It’d look suspicious if you cashed a huge check from someone you barely know when you probably don’t have much in the first place.”

“Yeah—yeah, uh, yeah—whatever you want, man. Fuck. Um. Shit. I don’t have anything to say. I was going to try giving you some advice, but I can’t really think right now.”

“Just shut up, and accept it. Can I stay at your apartment for a few more days? Or maybe for a while? Uh, just in case she like… comes home.”

“Whatever keeps you safe, man. You can stay with me for as long as you’d need or like.”

“I could probably just rent a condo or an apartment for myself.”

“But it’s always fun to have a little company, Tyler. Anyways, like, why would you ever give up shitty insulation and terrible shag carpet?”

Tyler chuckles a little bit, and they go back and forth for the rest of the ride. Tyler slips back in to get what he needs for work, before leaving again for the next twelve hours or so.

Tyler’s in the middle of his lunch break when his phone starts vibrating, with a caller ID that reads _Toll Free Number._ He lets out a breath, and debates for a few seconds before answering.

After the Default Debbie, Jenna just starts talking. _“I need to talk to you as my lawyer and not my husband, alright? What do I do?”_

“Accept the charges, obey the restraining order that I plan to file for, sign the divorce papers that I plan to serve you with, plead guilty at your trial, accept whatever form of punishment you get, and if you get time in prison, then self surrender.”

“ _It sounds like you’re talking as my husband.”_

“I’m talking as both. I have a black eye and a split lip plus a bruised up cheek because of you, and my back is pretty bruised from being knocked into the counter. You could’ve damaged my spine if you’d shoved me any harder, so I don’t really know what you expect. If I was speaking as _just_ your husband, I would’ve hung up already. Also, I’m not your lawyer anymore. Let the state appoint one for you.”

And with that, Tyler ends the call, and stares at a spot on his desk for a few minutes before quietly mumbling, “Holy shit,” under his breath.

The rest of his day goes by pretty smoothly. He chats with a few of his coworkers during his lunch break, works on a case or two, then packs his things so he can drive himself to Josh’s apartment.

Josh has his hair in a wig cap, and a full face on when he answers the door, and Tyler snorts out of reflex; he’s not used to this side of Josh. Hell, he hasn’t even seen it before. Josh wolf whistles quietly, saying, “Damn, dude, you look _real good_ in a suit.”

Tyler grins slightly dumbly before he’s invited inside. Once the door is shut behind him, he plops onto the floor, and takes his shoes and socks off, before peeling his blazer and tie off, unbuttoning the three top buttons, plus the cuffs, on his button-up shirt. He sets his shoes by the front door, before taking his socks, blazer, and tie to the guest bedroom where his suitcase resides.

Once he’s back in Josh’s living room, he sits on the floor next to where the man continues to work on his face. “Why do you do drag?” He asks quietly.

“It’s fun, and I look pretty great. Got a job that involves me being in drag anyways.”

“What sort of job?” Tyler asks, curiously, as he tries to get comfortable.

“Just… things, I guess. I perform, and act, and lip sync at a gay bar, and just kind of dick around in general for tips. Usually pull in two hundred to three hundred per night, three times a week.”

“Sounds fun.”

Josh nods gently as he works on gluing down his eyebrows with precision. “I have bath bombs in the drawer near the door in my bathroom, if you want to take a bath or something. You could, just… Relax. Might help. I like taking baths when I’m stressed.”

Tyler nods this time. “I’ll keep that in mind. My back hurts like a bitch.”

“Did you take the painkillers that the doctor at the hospital prescribed?”

Tyler nods. “This morning. Hey, am I allowed to be sad…? Like, I’m just… I’m kind of sad about losing the life I had.”

“Ty, you’ve got every right. It fucking sucks losing stability, trust me. I’m here for ya, though. At least for the next two hours. Got work.”

“What’s your drag name?” Tyler asks, curiously, as he continues to watch Josh.

“I’d raise an eyebrow but I’m trying to like… not move my face. Axis Powers.”

“ _Axis Powers?”_

“Mom’s, like, half German and a fourth Italian, and my dad’s half Japanese. Axis Powers.”

Tyler cackles a little bit, and they sit there in a comfortable silence while Josh continues to work on his face before Tyler asks, “Can we, like, talk whenever you get home?”

“Prefer to talk now, if we have to. I’m going to be tired and you should be asleep by the time I get back here anyways,” Josh responds, smoothly. Tyler feels a little intimidated by him and the air of dominance he has about him.

“It’s, like… personal stuff.”

“How personal? Like, you having a deep conversation with me personal or asking for more advice on the Jenna situation?”

“Both, and gay stuff.”

“Specify gay stuff,” Josh says as he rifles through a make up bag, pulling out some lip liner and matching lipstick.

“What do I do? Find a boyfriend or something now?”

“No, don’t go finding a boyfriend. Wait until you’re divorced, and wait until you have a better handle on yourself before you start trying to get back into dating.” Josh says the last half of that weirdly, considering he’s stretching his lips, trying to be as accurate as possible with lip liner.

“And what about my parents? What do I tell them? They’re going to find out about what’s going on eventually, and I’d feel bad if I kept something like being gay from them as well.”

Josh rolls his eyes and mutters, “Fucking businessmen,” under his breath. “All of you want things done _now now now. Please_ take my advice, and give yourself time. You don’t have to do everything right now. I think your first priority should just be focusing on yourself and probably your mental plus physical health issues. Come out to your parents when you’re ready. You don’t have to tell them about the specifics of why you’re getting divorced, though. You could just say shit wasn’t working out like you thought it would.”

Tyler nods, a thoughtfully grim look settling onto his face.

Things go by feeling kind of like the calm before the storm for the next few days until Tyler gets a call during the evening on Thursday from his mother. He answers it without really thinking, figuring she just wants to chat or something, and he’s in the middle of taking a swig from a bottle of beer when she busts out the accusatory _mom_ tone, saying, _“Would you like to explain why your wife just called me and asked for your father and I to post bail?”_

Tyler gets out an, “Um,” before he’s quickly peeling the back off of his phone and taking the battery out since it takes too long to turn the screen on to end the call. He puts the battery back in, and doesn’t turn his phone back on as he places it on Josh’s coffee table.

Josh gives him a weird look before he’s eventually asking, “What was that about?”

“My mom called,” Tyler says quietly as he stares at a spot on the floor between the coffee table and the TV. “She called my fucking mom and asked my parents to post bail. She could’ve asked her own parents but she called _mine._ She did it on purpose and now they _know.”_

Josh sighs and frowns as he gently takes Tyler’s hand and holds it. “I’d hug you but, uh… your back.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything, but squeezes Josh’s hand back. His head is buzzing and he feels as if there’s some sort of pressure in his head, which usually happens if he’s close to having a panic attack, meaning he’s probably about to have a panic attack. He says as much too in an eerily calm and quiet voice. “I think I’m about to have a panic attack.”

“Uh,” Josh says, dumbly. “Can I do anything to, like… prevent that?”

Tyler shakes his head as his chin and lip start quivering, and he lets Josh pull him onto his lap as he starts descending in what he’d like to call Hell. Josh is big and Tyler’s small and that’s the only reason things work out when Tyler’s sitting smack dab in the middle of Josh’s lap, crying and hyperventilating into his shoulder.

Josh shushes him, and rubs his upper back gently, careful not to go any further down than his waist. Tyler’s mind is going too fast, causing him to eventually shakily ask Josh if he can touch his hair. Josh gives him permission, and asks why, and all Tyler says is, “Need something to focus on. Too much in my head all at once.”

Josh understands completely, knowing that sometimes being affectionate with someone helps even him, and that Tyler isn’t an exception. Eventually Tyler’s calm enough to where he’s not hyperventilating so bad and to where his mind is going slow enough for him to formulate a thought that sticks with him for more than a few seconds, so that’s when he says, “I didn’t want my parents knowing yet because I just wanted time to get my ducks in a row.”

Josh nods. “Wasn’t really her place to tell them, but maybe if you tried explaining…?”

“No. They wouldn’t listen. Father’s the kind of guy who would ask me why I didn’t hit back and Mother’s always been hard on me in the first place.”

Josh nods once again. “I won’t push you, man. Anything I can do to help now?”

“Got any pot?” Tyler asks, sarcastically.

“I do, actually,” Josh responds, unexpectedly.

Tyler snorts quietly and adjusts his position in his friend’s lap, forehead still pressed against his shoulder and fingers still gently playing with cotton candy curls. “I have this weird need to try being funny. Don’t actually want any. One of the other lawyers in my firm would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You are kind of uptight, bro,” Josh comments, laughing when Tyler gently pulls his hair.

Tyler ends up sharing Josh’s bed with him that night, and ends up missing work the next day after he finally turns his phone back on to see forty seven missed calls from his parents and seventeen unread texts that are basically cursing him out, all of which push him over the edge. He _was_ going to go to work, but Josh sleepily stopped him, saying, “Take a personal day.”

Tyler blocks his parents’ numbers and spends the next few weeks in some sort of weird limbo until he has a meeting with his own lawyer to discuss a few things. Tyler knows what he needs to do legally, and he also knows that speaking with his own lawyer would probably benefit him more than if he were to just use his own knowledge of law.

Things are stacked in his favor, and within a month he’s managed to pull enough strings for his divorce to be over and done with. He’s still staying at Josh’s apartment, still feeling unsafe and unwelcome in his own home.

Josh’s apartment is, honestly, the only _safe place_ he actually has. None of his friends know where it’s at, his parents don’t either, and it’s calm. He can watch TV and do his paperwork in peace without anyone really pestering him aside from Josh asking him if he wants something to eat once in a while.

Tyler gets some news that he finds unsettling the last week of October. It's nothing that surprises him, but it's weird to have it finalized and confirmed. He's been seeing a therapist for a few weeks now, twice a week, mostly since he sort of had a nervous breakdown. He's taking a break from work, something Josh suggested, and he's just been _depressed_ and _anxious_ and just _off._

Tyler's eating chicken with Josh and drinking a thirty two ounce bottle of Powerade when he brings up what his therapist said to him. "My therapist says I have post traumatic stress disorder apparently." It's really not a huge surprise.

"Why'd she figure that?"

"I have almost all of the symptoms of it. I have nightmares and really bad intrusive thoughts, like, irrational ones, I can't handle going home because everything reminds me of stuff and I've basically moved in with you. I get startled super easily and can't handle slapping sounds or yelling without crying, and I can't sleep for shit. There's other stuff I do, but apparently it's just--it's a thing, I guess."

"I have it too. If you ever need someone to talk to or if you want advice on how to cope with it then you can come to me."

"You never talk about your stuff, but you know basically everything about me. Is it too nosy to ask?"

Josh shrugs. "Guess not. It'll come up anyways. I met a guy when I was, like, twenty, and we hit it off right away, y'know? Seemed perfect and almost too good to be true, and it did end up being too good to be true. We'd been living together for a few months when things just... got bad. It wasn't all at once but over time everything just built up.

"I think the first time he hit me, he came crawling back and crying and acting all pathetic, saying he'd never do it again, that he was sorry. Two weeks later he broke my nose. My nose is a little crooked because of it. He yelled a lot, too, and put me down. I couldn't ever get a word in edgewise and he ignored my opinions and was a total control freak.

"I've only told the people at an emergency room and a therapist that I went and saw for a few sessions, but, like--during the worst of it... A lot of bad, _bad_ stuff happened. The night I did anything about it was so fucking terrible. I had a busted nose, a busted cheek bone, a hyper extended elbow, a concussion, and that was just--that was part of it. I dunno." Josh shrugs and moves a piece of chicken around on his plate with his fork, not really paying any solid attention to it. "There'd been a few times where I hadn't explicitly given my consent before sleeping with him, but he never, like, actually hurt me until then, y'know?" He looks up at Tyler, who nods, looking sad. "I can still remember everything that happened crystal clear. He was drunk and all that, totally typical, and I didn't want to have sex with him because, hey, he was drunk for crying out loud, but I was some scrawny little twenty two year old at the time so I couldn't really fight back a whole lot, and he, like... I'll be blunt, but, hey, I'm Josh, I'm twenty eight, I like Red Bull and Chipotle, and I'm a rape victim. You want to hear the real kicker, though?"

"What?" Tyler's voice is small and quiet.

"Well, there's two things. That wasn't when I left him, and he got out of prison last year on good behavior. He lives in Queens, though, and I haven't told anyone where I live. Like, you know, but no one else does. I have a PO box for my mail, even."

"Good behavior? That's bullshit. I wish I was your lawyer at the time. I would've nailed that fucker to the wall and made _sure_ there was no possibility of that happening." Tyler frowns and stabs a piece of chicken with his fork. He'll be honest--he has a lot of love in his heart for Josh, since high school, even, and it makes him sad that someone would treat an angel like him like that and that shitty things keep happening to him.

"I need to file for another restraining order. Haven't gotten around to it because I just... don't want to think about it."

"I'll help you when you do. I'm a kick ass lawyer and I'm friends with a few... important people, if you catch my drift. I'll get it done."

"Pro bono?"

"Of course."

"Back to the story. Shit like that kept happening for another year and a half before I _finally_ fucking left him. Went to an emergency room, finally fessed up to what'd happened to a few police officers, he got arrested, there was a trial, and he was supposed to get ten years, but only did barely four and a half before getting out. What sucks is he has no idea where I'm at but I'm still afraid he's going to like--going to _find me."_

"I feel bad for being all fucked up over my wife now. It wasn't even that bad with her compared to you."

Josh flicks a piece of chicken at Tyler. "Don't start with that shit. Just because I had it worse doesn't make yours any less legitimate. The effects and emotional toll are still the same and some things are more traumatic for others than they are for anyone else. I could imagine why you're all fucked up anyways. You loved her, right?"

"More than you'll know. Not... I wasn't in love with her or anything, but I did love her. She was my best friend for a long time, and we got along perfectly, but shit just went sour and it hurt that someone I loved so much could just... be that way. I wish I had the courage to come out when I was younger. Also, you know I had a big fat gay crush on you in high school, right?"

Josh smiles and laughs. "Seriously? Even with all that acne and the awkward hair cut?"

Tyler nods and smiles. "I thought you were cute. You were also super nice to me, and just nice in general. Like, I remember talking to you a few times, thinking, 'There has to be a catch--this guy _cannot_ be this nice,' but, nah, man, you're the real deal."

"I'm a total softy. Don't let the muscles and the acrylic nails fool you." Josh flexes his arm, and shows off his nails. "You know what else sucks? I haven't been able to have sex since I left him. Imagine that--a five year dry spell. Mostly it's because everyone meets me, and thinks, 'Oh, he's a bottom!'"

"Most people meet me and think, 'Oh, he's straight!'" Tyler tries with an awkward grin.

Josh laughs. "You're a little goofy, bro. So, uh..." Josh wiggles his brows a bit. "Do you think you're a top or a bottom?"

Tyler snorts. "Truthfully? I kinda wanna try bottoming at some point. I mean, I've watched porn, and I always kind of want to be on the, uh, receiving end. Is it possible to do that and keep your boner, though? Everyone in porn is always soft and it's like... ew. Y'know?"

"It's possible, man. Just depends on if your partner knows what they're doing. Foreplay and preparation and all that. Porn isn't a good place to learn about gay sex. I'd suggest either asking me, or looking it up online." Josh shrugs.

"Well, that's a conversation for a different time. For now, we should just enjoy this shitty rotisserie chicken from Walmart, and continue watching Glee."

"Still can't believe you like Glee," Josh mutters.

"It's the only safe show I know of. I mean, I'm sure there's others, but it's the only one I can watch without being reminded of fuckin'... y'know."

Josh just nods. He gets it. "I just hate it because of how they all talk about New York. Like, for one thing, that fucking NYADA place sounds like a _dream,_ but it's fake. I mean, talk about _real schools,_ y'know?"

"What school were you in?" Tyler asks. "You said something about art school, but you dropped out...?"

"Juilliard, drama department. I had to drop out because I couldn't afford it. I could go back if I wanted, but I just... Ain't putting myself in that kind of debt again. I was only there for a few years. Like, I was so, _so_ close to having a degree."

Tyler cracks a half grin and leans over to squeeze Josh's shoulder.

Things go on normally for a while. Tyler and Josh share dinners and deep conversations in the evenings, up until the week before Thanksgiving rolls around. Tyler's put his house on the market by then, and he's fully moved in with Josh. All of his clothes are there and they swapped out some of Josh's furniture for Tyler's. (Josh had asked, and Tyler had agreed, since, although Josh's couch was kind of comfortable, his own couch was still pretty kick ass.)

Everything else, specifically Jenna's things and a few other bits of furniture that Tyler couldn't find a place for in Josh's apartment (which was a lot) were moved to a storage unit.

Tyler's working on a bit of paperwork, mostly just having to do with his taxes, when his mom calls him. He'd unblocked his parents numbers a while ago, and they hadn't called him since. Besides now, of course. His mom asks him if he'd like to go home for Thanksgiving, and he tells her he'll think about it.

He talks to Josh about it, asking him what he should do. He wants to go home, but there's a lot of... memories that he associates with home. "Come with me. I'm gonna stay with my parents for Thanksgiving, and they live in Columbus too. You could go see your parents for a few hours on Thanksgiving day or something, then come back to my parents' house...? They'd be glad to have you in the first place, and my mom's a pretty kick ass mom."

They drive from New York to Columbus. It takes about ten hours, given traffic and roadwork, but they're there eventually. Tyler skirts his parents' phone calls, ones asking him if he was coming home or not.

Josh's parents are nicer than Tyler expected. He fills them in briefly on his situation at the moment, and they don't judge him in the slightest, but rather welcome him into their home with open arms. Tyler likes Josh's parents more than he likes his own.

"You don't have to stay in here, y'know," Josh says at noon on the second day Tyler's been there. "Like, you're allowed to leave my room and talk to my family, bro."

Tyler shrugs. "I know. I just--I feel out of place. Kind of like I'm intruding."

"You aren't intruding at all. Anyways, you need to come eat before you faint or something."

"Can I just go to Starbucks?" Tyler mumbles as he stands up from the bed, grabbing his phone off the charger, and his coat from its place on a coat hook in Josh's old bedroom. He wasn't really asking Josh for permission, rather just hinting that that was what he was going to do.

"Can I go with you?"

"If you want."

They go to Starbucks and have a pretty alright time, then after Tyler brings Josh to his own parents' home again, he drives to his parents' house. He's not excited for this, not in any capacity, but he hasn't seen his parents since Christmas of the previous year, and, yeah, his life--his life is _wildly_ different now, but when it comes down to it, his parents are still, y'know, his parents, and he loves them almost more than anything.

He doesn't see his parent's car in the driveway when he gets there, which, for some reason, makes him feel relieved. It means his little brother is going to answer the door. His brother is innocent and nice. His parents are strict, stern, and kind of mean sometimes.

When Tyler knocks, it takes less than a few minutes for him to have an armful of excited twelve year old. (Zack was an accident that resulted from a broken condom when Tyler was around sixteen.) "I missed you too, little dude, but I can't breathe," Tyler gets out as he peels his brother away from him.

He finds himself being dragged through the house and into Zack's bedroom. He'd apparently gotten rid of the race car bed sometime after Tyler moved out, and swapped it for a regular full sized bed with tasteful sheets. "Tell me what happened with Jenna. Did she kill someone?" His eyes are wide as he shuts his bedroom door behind him.

"Did you just... corner me... to talk about this?" Tyler frowns at him. "It's kind of a heavy subject."

"So? Mom and Dad are shopping for Thanksgiving stuff and it's private in here. They've been agonizing over it and I want to be the first to know."

Tyler's mind blanks. He doesn't know how to explain this to a twelve year old. He doesn't want to coddle Zack, because he's sure he gets enough of that from their parents, but he doesn't know if it's a good idea to say, _"My ex wife abused me and I turned her in,"_ to a possibly conservative and misogynistic twelve year old.

Tyler's about as left winged as can be, even though he lies and acts like some uptight republican. He agonizes over how to explain everything to his brother before he pulls up the album on his phone with the pictures of all the bruises he'd gotten on his face and wherever else. There's a little under a hundred photos, and Tyler figures it wouldn't take him too long to look at all of them, so he hands his phone to his brother. "Look through these."

And he does. It takes him ten minutes because he pauses on a bunch of them and zooms in, a frown on his face. He hands Tyler's phone back to him. "I was looking for tell-tale signs of photo shop."

Tyler rolls his eyes. Zack's always been a little weird. "They aren't. I still have a scar on my lip from the last one." Tyler shows Zack his lip, and his little brother nods in a weird and way too perceptive way.

"Did she do that to you? All of that?"

Tyler nods, and scratches at his hand a little bit. "You know the last one with my back? If she pushed me any harder she would've damaged my spine."

"What did she push you into?" He asks, eyebrows furrowing together.

"The kitchen counter. I would've moved when she did, but she was yelling at me, then she slapped me _really_ hard, and I--I didn't really want to provoke her further. Ended up going to an emergency room and turning her in the next day."

"What a fucking _bitch."_

Tyler huffs. "Don't let Mom or Dad catch you talking like that, little brother."

He rolls his eyes. "I would never. So, what? Is she in prison?"

"I think she's out of jail right now, but there's a trial in February. I've, uh, been staying with... a friend." Tyler scratches the back of his neck.

He knows his cheeks are red and as Zack's leading him from his room and back towards the living room, he asks, "Girlfriend?"

Tyler shakes his head. "No, not like that. The friend, uh, helped me out of the situation I was in. I'm selling my house, too. There's a lot of not so great memories there, and I just feel bad when I'm there."

Zack pats his older brother on the back. "Who's your friend?"

"Uh, his name's Josh. You don't--you wouldn't know him. Went to high school with him." Tyler kicks his shoes off once he's in the living room, and sits in his dad's recliner, mostly since it's comfortable and since his dad isn't home right now. "He's a really good guy. Like, nicer than you could imagine, man."

"What's his house like? It must be nice if you're willing to live with him."

Tyler kind of wishes his family didn't think he was some stuck up prick. Sure, he has nice things and lived in a nice house, but he's not a very materialistic person. (Okay, he sort of is, because, like, when you have money you can get to be that way, but deep down he isn't.) "He lives in a basement apartment in not the best part of New York. It's nice. Like, not... Not objectively nice, but it's a home. Feels like a home. Dunno if you know that feeling."

He shakes his head and grabs the remote from next to the couch, and turns the TV on. "Is he your boyfriend or something?"

Tyler squints at him. "No. Why would you ask that?"

"Just because Mom and Dad hate homosexuals doesn't mean I do."

"And what makes you think I'm gay?" Tyler's using his lawyer voice.

"I never said that," comes his brother's smooth response.

Tyler doesn't say anything in response to that, because he figures he's going to end up digging himself into a hole if he _does_ reply to it.

He's still watching a marathon of some cartoon with his brother when his parents get home. They're surprised to see him, and Tyler gets a hug from his father, then a distasteful look from his mother. "What's her deal?" He whispers to his dad when she walks out of the room with groceries.

"Go talk to her," he says with a shrug, and probably to get Tyler out of his recliner.

Tyler gets up and takes a breath before he's walking over to the kitchen. His parents have a big house, so he's not concerned about his privacy when he's saying, "Hey, Ma," as he's walking over to where she's standing.

"What's been going on with Jenna?" She says, immediately.

"Have you talked to her since she asked you guys' to post bail?"

"A few times. Domestic violence and assault? _Really?"_

Tyler was afraid of this happening. He hates Jenna more than anything right now. "What'd she say to you?"

"Said you left, then the next thing she knew police officers were arresting her. She said she didn't even do anything."

"She lied," Tyler says, quietly. He pulls his phone out, and hands it to his mother for her to scroll through the pictures, just like he'd done with Zack a few hours ago. "She did all of that within the past two years."

"Why didn't you hit her back?"

"You're not supposed to fight abuse with more abuse," Tyler just says this bluntly.

His mom scoffs. "Abuse?"

"Pretty sure someone slapping you and hitting and kicking you and almost damaging your spine counts as abuse, and that's not even mentioning the verbal and emotional abuse." Tyler uses his lawyer voice, since it was either that, or he mumbled through it a little too quick. "I know you liked her because she seemed nice and lovely and that's why I liked her but you weren't there for the behind the scenes stuff."

His mother turns Tyler's phone screen off and hands his phone to him. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I _did._ I told one of my friends, and he--he helped me out." Tyler shrugs, and looks down at his phone in his hands, picking at the case a little bit.

He and his mother stand there in silence for a little bit, and she finishes putting groceries away before she's motioning for Tyler to follow her to a different room. They end up in the garage, mostly since she's the one who wants privacy to have this conversation. "I want you to explain the situation to me."

And for the first time since Tyler broke his arm in middle school falling off of his bike, she sounds sympathetic and concerned. (It's not that she doesn't care about him, but she's strict and tries pushing him to be the best he can be, at least in her eyes.)

"There's not really a lot to it. Some time in June, I think, she was going off on me about something--I can't remember--but she slapped me then shoved me against the counter in the kitchen and that's how I got the, uh, nasty bruise on my back. Hurt pretty bad. I sent a text message to one of my friends that didn't personally know her, but it never sent _but_ I conveniently ran into him at Starbucks the next day. Oh--you know how I'm hypoglycemic?"

She makes a weird face. "I'm--I'm aware. I'm your mother."

"Yeah, well, she had either of us on a vegan," he starts counting on his fingers each item, "no carb, no sugar diet. One that I shouldn't have been on and whenever I slipped and had something with sugar in it, because, hey, I could've started having seizures again, she'd just... flip out. That's why I was at the Starbucks in the first place. Is this too long?"

"A little bit, but we haven't talked in a long time."

Tyler ends up sitting on the ground against the wall, and his mother leans against the car that's in the garage while he continues. "Anyways, I've--I hate that I have this skill, but I've gotten pretty good at covering up slap marks and I thought I looked fine but the, uh, the friend saw me and sat down with me and we were talking, and he--don't--don't judge him or anything, because he's such, _such_ a good guy, but he does drag and does stage make up, and was in an abusive situation like I was, and he asked me about my face. So, one thing led to another, I spilled my guts to him, and he gave me this, like... plan. He said it was what he did when he was in that situation. And I went with it." Tyler looks back to his hands again and pops one of his wrists.

"What was the plan?"

"I had him look at the bruise on my back, and he took me to an emergency room. He said that going there would be good, since the doctors had to document everything, and told me to talk to some police officers there, and told me to tell them _exactly_ what happened, _so,_ I did. Legally speaking, if you tell a police officer about--about being abused, they're required to issue a warrant for an arrest on charges of domestic violence, and, in my case, it counted as assault as well, and I knew that, because, hey, I'm a lawyer for crying out loud.

"Anyways, uh, that happened, I filed for divorce and got it finalized within a month, and I've been staying with the friend of mine since that day. Can't--can't really stomach going home. Too many bad memories, I guess. It didn't really even _feel_ like a home, you know? Do you know that feeling?"

She nods, because she knows.

"His apartment feels more like a home to me than that big house ever did. I mean, he actually _uses_ the apartment, and it's not all clean and pristine and it's lived in. It's an actual home. I'm--I'm selling my house. I don't know if I'm going to continue staying with the friend, or if I'm going to buy a condo or something, but that's--that's all future stuff. Anyways, there's a trial in February, and both me and the friend are testifying. I mean, he was there for the whole... shit storm, and he's--he's been offering me emotional support and he's just been a friend which is a lot more than I could've ever asked for. I mean, he gets what I'm going through more than anyone I know, and I can trust him."

"Is she in prison?"

"I think she's out on bail right now. Probably had one of her friends post it. Prison won't come until after the trial, since she won't just self surrender. I told her it'd be easier and it'd save either of us a bunch of time, and _money_ , but... It's whatever. I have a restraining order. She can't knowingly be within a hundred yards of me, and I can't knowingly be within a hundred yards of her either. It's up to her to obey that, though. I mean, if she doesn't, she's going to land herself in an even bigger fucking mess than she's already in."

"Does she know where you're _staying?"_

"No, and I'm not telling anyone. Josh--the friend--he knows, since it's his apartment, but I don't want anyone else knowing. Just--just in case. I'm being overly cautious but I don't know if she's the kind of person who would stalk me or try doing anything... _dangerous,_ but it's a risk I _do not_ want to take." Tyler shrugs and stands up after that, sensing the conversation is mostly over.

He asks his mother for a hug, and she rolls her eyes before tugging him down into one. Sure, Tyler resents both his mother and his father most of the time, but his mom is still his mom, and mom hugs are, like, some of the best hugs.

Tyler ends up staying for dinner, and he helps his mother cook. While he's stirring a pot of boiling noodles, she leans against the counter, and Tyler realizes that, no, it's not his father that he gets his sneaky and sly mannerisms from, it's his _mother._ "So, whats this Josh like? What does he do for a living?"

"Works at a Guitar Center during the day and... I don't actually know what he does, specifically, or how to necessarily explain it, but I told you he's a drag queen, and, like... I guess how I'd phrase it is that he participates in drag shows at some of the gay bars in New York. He's explained it before, but I don't really get what he does. He pulls in around three hundred bucks on the nights he does that, though, which is, like, once or twice a week? I think?"

"You're living with a _gay_ man?"

Tyler shrugs, not looking at her. "Yeah, but it's not really any of your business."

"And how did you meet him?"

"What's with the grilling?"

"I just want to know how my firstborn son is doing."

Tyler subtly rolls his eyes a little bit. "We met in high school. Remember when someone broke my nose in high school? He's the one who drove me to an emergency room because he thought it'd be less embarrassing than the school calling an ambulance or something. He got into Juilliard, I moved to New York after I got out of Harvard, and we just happened to see each other at Starbucks, but I already told you that."

"He went to Juilliard, but he works at a Guitar Center...?"

"He had to drop out. Too much debt."

"And he works at a _Guitar Center_ to pay off that debt?"

"He used to. I paid off the rest of his debt off as a... gift for helping me out. I probably owe him my life, so I figured it was the least I could do."

"What if he's taking advantage of you?"

"Mom, he's not like that. I'm a lawyer--I know when I'm being played."

"You let that stuff with Jenna go on for however long it was happening."

"I was married to her for three years, and I thought I was in love with her, alright? You'd be surprised at the bullshit excuses you come up with when you love someone."

"Is Josh your boyfriend?"

Tyler slams the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the pasta down on the counter, shouting, "Do all of you think I'm gay?"

Tyler hears his brother and his father saying, _"Yes,"_ in unison. He scoffs.

"We've been wondering ever since this stuff started. _Are_ you gay?" Her question sounds pointed.

"No, and I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. I mean, Josh is a nice guy, and I'm sure he'd be a lovely boyfriend, but I'm not gay, and on top of not looking for a relationship right now, I don't think it's the best time for one either, considering I just got out of an abusive one. I need to take some time for myself and focus on my own problems."

Tyler doesn't let the conversation go on much further after that, and once he eats, he doesn't stick around much longer before he's driving back over to Josh's parents house.

He walks in and is hit with the scent of food. Judging by the way most everyone in the house is sprawled out in the living room, aside from Josh, whose whereabouts Tyler isn't sure of, they've just finished dinner. Josh's mother tells him he's allowed to poke around in the kitchen to see if there's anything he'd like to eat, so Tyler nods respectfully and takes his shoes and coat off before walking towards the kitchen in their house.

Josh is in there, wrapping up dishes in foil and saran wrap, and he grins when he sees Tyler. "Hey, man. Want anything to eat?"

"Had dinner with my parents."

"You sure? There's apple pie." Josh lifts up the foil on the dish he just finished putting, y'know, foil on, and Tyler groans.

"You know me too well. I love apple pie. It's not too much trouble, is it...?"

"Not at all, man." Josh stands on the tips of his toes to get a plate from the cupboard above him, and places it on the counter in front of where Tyler's standing. He pulls a spatula from a drawer, and awkwardly maneuvers two slices of the pie onto the plate for him.

"Dude, this is a lot of pie."

"You're skinny; you'll live," He reasons as he throws the spatula into the sink and puts the foil back onto the pie. "Before you start eating, help me put this stuff away, _please."_

As Tyler's putting a few tupperware dishes into the fridge, he asks, "Why so much food?"

"There's seven people in the house right now, bro. There's always a lot of food around. Trust me, this stuff won't make it past tomorrow. Thanksgiving is going to be ridiculous if you're here. We usually don't invite a ton of people over, objectively, but it gets pretty packed. How about your parents?"

"They invite as many people as possible and Mom spends at least three days before the day just _cooking_ things since there's so many people who come over. It's--it's pretty insane. Gets overwhelming, I guess. There's been a few times that I'll just make myself a plate, then go back to my room. I mean, I was a teenager when I did that, but still."

Josh nods, and doesn't say a whole lot after that. They continue to work in tandem to get leftovers put away, and Tyler finds himself spiritually smiling a little bit at the way Josh basically sidles on up to him and gives him a hug. Tyler needed the hug, honestly, and he hugs back.

"Does it ever get easier?" Tyler asks quietly. "Dealing with all the residual feelings...?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's been almost five years since I went through my stuff, and I'm still working on a few things, but it's gotten way easier. Definitely helps if you have a friend, though," Josh is adding the last part as some sort of side comment as he pulls away from the hug.

"Did you have a friend?"

He shakes his head and chuckles dryly. "No, I didn't. He kind of dictated who I was and wasn't friends with, and by the time I left him, I didn't have anyone. I just--I dropped out when I left him, then blew my savings renting that apartment."

"You have friends now, though, right?" Tyler frowns a little bit, concerned for his friend.

Josh shrugs. "Not really. I have a few people at work and a few other drag queens I talk to, but I don't really have any friends beside you. At least not anyone I trust."

"Wanna go hang out in your room? Just--bro time, I guess." Tyler looks a little sheepish, and Josh snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Always."

Tyler takes his pie with him, and in Josh's room, he talks about how his entire family thinks he's gay, and how he denied it, mostly since he's not ready to come out yet, at least not so soon after everything. He talks about his conversation with his mother, how she seemed to be more or less sympathetic with his situation, and he talks about how his brother called Jenna a bitch, laughing about it while telling the story.

"So, your family doesn't, like, hate you or anything, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no. I just--I was afraid I was going to get yelled at, but I managed to stay cool, and my mom, like... Understood. I didn't fully explain anything to my dad, but I know Mom will, and my little brother will probably go to his grave defending me, so I'm not too worried."

"How old's your brother anyways? You talk about him sometimes, and I've been wondering."

"Twelve. He was an accident caused by a broken condom. Mom probably would've had an abortion, were she not, like, super pro-life. I'm glad she didn't. He's a pretty great brother, and I sort of wish I was around more."

Josh nods, understanding how Tyler feels.

Thanksgiving comes and goes, and Tyler spends it with Josh's family instead of his own. He's pretty sure he has more fun and feels more at home with Josh's family than he would've with his own family. It's an odd feeling but he doesn't dislike it.

He spends Christmas with Josh in his apartment.

Josh gets up before Tyler does, which is, honestly, a first, since Tyler's usually up by nine when he's not working. He's about to resign himself to the couch to watch a movie, but he remembers that it's Christmas, and figures that Tyler _might_ enjoy waking up to breakfast. He's made breakfast for him enough to where he knows what Tyler likes specifically.

He likes eggs, sunny side up, toast barely toasted with butter and huckleberry honey, which he, by the way, doesn't know where Tyler fucking found the damn thing. Since he'd been staying there, once a month, there'd be a new bottle of huckleberry honey, and Josh seriously wonders where he gets it from. He figures it probably comes from some store that he, himself, can't afford to shop at, but he doesn't complain because it tastes pretty great. Along with all of that, he knows that Tyler likes grapefruit juice with his breakfast, so that's what he makes for his friend.

For himself, he just eats some leftover pork fried rice. (He figures Tyler's going to get on to him for not eating something more substantial, but, hey, Josh wants what he wants.)

Tyler grumbles when he's woken up by Josh, but he perks up when he hears 'breakfast' leave the man's mouth. Christmas Eve had been another night that Tyler ended up sleeping in Josh's room, not wanting to be alone after having a pretty bad panic attack. (Like, the full on dry heaving kind of panic attack. It was not a very pretty occasion.)

"Josh, dude, you need to eat something more than leftover takeout," Tyler's stating before he's sitting down in front of his breakfast.

"Knew you'd tell me that," Josh replies as he sits down in front of the take-out carton. Josh examines Tyler while he's eating his rice. It's snowing outside, and the bright light filtering in from the windows high up on Josh's walls is reflecting off of Tyler's face, and Josh can see his freckles. They aren't very noticeable, honestly, but they're just a tiny bit more obvious this morning. His hair is a bird's nest, since he hasn't washed it in a few days, and since it's long enough to where he's starting to look like Leonardo DiCaprio circa the Titanic era.

Josh has the tiniest realization that isn't a realization because he's known it since he was in high school, but Tyler Joseph is beautiful. He has an even bigger realization a few minutes later when he's thinking, _"I love him,"_ to himself. He's not in love, not yet, but the realization still has Josh choking on his rice and Tyler trying not to laugh at him as he tells him to breathe.

"What was that about?"

"Swallowed wrong," Josh gets out, still coughing just a little bit.

Tyler shakes his head.

After they eat and after either of them are dressed for the day, they exchange presents. Josh told Tyler not to get him anything ridiculous, and Tyler, for the most part, obeyed the request. He got Josh two presents. Okay, well, more like fifty. He ordered a bunch of stuff from Sephora, and spent, like, an _obscene_ amount of money on things, since he doesn't know anything about makeup, and didn't know what kinds of stuff Josh used for drag. He organized everything rather neatly into a pretty big box and even took the time to wrap it himself.

The other gift was a pair of heels, since he remembered Josh saying something about not being able to find heels that both came in his size and didn't look godawful, or that didn't cost more than a few hundred dollars.

"Jesus, _Tyler,_ what's in this one?" Josh is asking as he's pulling the bigger box towards him.

Tyler shrugs, and doesn't say anything.

Josh rips the wrapping paper off quickly, and before he opens the box, he asks, "How much did you spend on this one?"

"... Enough."

_"Tyler."_

"Roughly four thousand dollars," he mumbles.

 _"Tyler!_ I told you not to get me anything ridiculous!"

"I make five thousand in a week when I'm working. Chill. Just open it."

Josh squints at him, then takes a breath, and when he opens the box, he just quietly says, "Oh my god. I don't even have _room_ for all of this stuff."

"I didn't know what kind of make up you wore and I got kind of carried away, alright? I cut myself off after fifty items. Just wanted you to have a good Christmas."

"I'm so shocked and excited over all of this make up that I can't even raise my voice or express any emotion."

"You still gone one more, man."

"How much on this one?"

"Fifteen hundred. Listen, it was worth it. I think."

"Is it too late to grovel?" Josh is asking, looking up at Tyler, with the heels in his hands. "I feel bad about what I got you now, Christ."

Tyler shushes him, and, honestly, he's touched at the card containing an inspirational note Josh gives him, and he grins stupidly at the twenty dollar Subway giftcard. Josh says he had it leftover from when he worked at Subway, and that he, personally, now hates Subway after working there, and figured Tyler could make some use out of it.

After exchanging gifts, Tyler watches Josh as he's organizing all of his make up. He has two plastic sets of drawers for _just_ make up in his closet, and, needless to say, a few of the drawers end up almost filled.

The two men settle onto the couch in the living room, watching Christmas movies. Josh drops dry commentary throughout them, and Tyler's there to snort and laugh along with him.

Early the next morning, Josh gets up, peeling Tyler's arm from his chest, and quietly goes through getting dressed, since he needs to work. Guitar Center is stupid and is open the day after Christmas, and Christmas in general tends to be a high holiday for drag queens. He's going to be _busy._

He runs into a problem when he opens the door to his apartment, though.

There's two feet of snow on the ground, and he can't get his car out of the parking lot. He even wakes Tyler up and asks if he can borrow _his_ car, but, alas, lady luck isn't on his side. They're snowed in. Josh doesn't even know why he even tried getting either of their cars out of the parking lot, what with as much snow as there was.

Tyler's sitting on the floor in the living room, sipping at his coffee and reading a newspaper by the time Josh gives up trying to get out of the parking lot of their apartment complex. Josh is on the phone with his boss at Guitar Center, explaining that he can't get out of the parking lot of his apartment complex, when he does walk back into the apartment.

Josh tosses his phone onto his dining table once the call is over, and he kicks his boots off before stumbling over to the couch. "I got up and went through all that shit for _nothing."_

"What'd your boss say?"

"He lives a few streets over. He doesn't give a shit."

Tyler makes a noise of acknowledgment before he goes back to reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. That's just about how they spend the next five days up until New Year's. Josh can't get out of the apartment to work, and Tyler doesn't have plans to go back to work again until after February.

On New Years Eve, they're still snowed in, and Tyler allows himself to get comfortable, leaning against Josh, holding the man's hand and sipping at a glass of wine while they watch an SNL special, since New Years Eve landed on a Saturday this year. Josh turns the volume down eventually, and asks, "Do you have any resolutions for the new year?"

"My resolution is to start being true to myself. I'm not going to quit my job or anything, even if it isn't my favorite thing in the world, but I'm just not going to let anyone push me around or treat me horribly anymore, and I'm going to just... Let myself have things, if that makes sense. For example, maybe I'll find a boyfriend or something, and, like, actually fall in love with someone. Do you have any resolutions?"

"I want to learn how to trust people again," Josh says quietly. "I trust you more than you think," Josh starts, squeezing Tyler's hand a little bit, "but I want to trust more people. I want friends again. I don't want to be so... _afraid_ of everything, you know?"

Tyler nods. "Yeah. I know. Jen made it her business to get to know _all_ of my friends, so I honestly really only have you and one of the other lawyers I work with. Don't really talk to him much, though..." Tyler swishes his wine around in his glass, and takes a swig of it.

"What's the other lawyer like? Is he all uptight like you are?"

Tyler grunts and nudges Josh as best as he can. "I'm not uptight, and no, _he's_ not uptight. He's really laid back. Have you ever watched Six Feet Under?"

"I have, yeah."

"He's like Nate, except he's a little more optimistic, and he's, like, gay. Speaking of, he started a betting pool a few years ago, and I think the deal was, if I was gay, he won the pool, but if I wasn't gay, someone else won."

"Who won?"

"I never gave them an answer. I kept skirting it because I thought it was funny, how they were acting."

"You could so sue them for sexual harassment."

"I could, but they weren't interfering with my work environment. HR would've had a fit if they knew what was happening." Tyler chuckles a little bit, and adjusts his position to be more comfortable. "You're always so warm. How do you do it?"

"Good circulation, I guess," Josh answers softly. "How are you always so cold?"

"Anxiety."

"Fair enough." Josh chuckles this time and adjusts his own position to allow Tyler to tuck himself into his side. "Wanna get some blankets and watch something...?"

"Mm, no, not right now," Tyler decides. "You're super comfortable, man."

"If we get blankets, though, it'll be way more comfortable."

"You have a point." Tyler yawns, adorably, after that.

Josh doesn't get up to get the blankets, mostly since Tyler strengthens his grip on the man's arm when he tries. He does, though, nudge Tyler off of him when he hears the people above him starting to count down from ten, and by the time they hit one, his lips are less than a centimeter from Tyler's, and when their cheering intensifies, Tyler's the one who's shoving forward, hand firmly grasping the hair on the back of Josh's head, and Josh with hands on either side of Tyler's face.

They part when Tyler runs out of breath, both giggling softly. "Was that a good New Years kiss?" Josh asks with a shy but excited grin on his face.

Tyler smiles a toothy smile and nods. "It was spectacular."

Josh leans back in and steals another kiss from Tyler, just because he knows that now is probably the only time he's going to be able to do this without having to worry about weirding Tyler out or something like that.

Tyler reciprocates, enthusiastically before Josh is the one breaking the kiss, mumbling something about getting blankets for a movie with another shy grin directed towards Tyler. They end up setting up the fold out bed on the couch, and they settle on watching Chicago. Tyler's never seen it, and after finding that out, Josh had said, "If you're going to be gay, you _have_ to watch Chicago."

Tyler's awake long enough to catch the end of Cell Block Tango before he's snoring into his pillow.

They're snowed in for a few more days before the parking lot is finally cleared. Josh goes to work, and Tyler heads towards the law firm that he works at. He's not going there to work, but to... confide in a friend.

Tyler scratches the back of his head, and cranes his neck to look at the sign on the building he usually works in. It's something simple and tasteful--expected for a law firm, and his stomach is dropping when he's walking through the doors. It's not like he has anything specific to be afraid of but it's more like he has an anxiety disorder and hasn't been in this building in almost three months.

The receptionist, Ashley, is slouched over in the chair, with earbuds in, playing solitaire and listening to _something,_ when Tyler walks into the building. Tyler reaches over the counter and gently tugs one of the earbuds out, causing the girl to jump and bat his arm away.

Tyler flinches a little bit.

"Moving your hand in front of my face would've worked better, Mr. Joseph," She mumbles with a sigh before putting on her _professional_ facade. "How can I help you? Your break isn't over until February."

"I, uh, just need to get a few things from my office. Also... Do you know if Brendon's in a meeting or anything?"

She holds up a finger, and clicks a few keys on the computer, before shaking her head, saying, "He shouldn't be busy right now. You know where his office is."

"Gotcha. Thanks." Tyler smiles politely and ducks into the hallway, hitting the _up_ button on the elevator, then riding the elevator all the way up to the fourth floor.

He sighs to himself, silently, as he steps down the hallway on the fourth floor, and once he reaches his destination, he tentatively knocks before cracking the door, and asking, "Are you busy?" as he pokes his head in.

His coworker looks up and grins. "Hey, man! No, of course. Get in here." Brendon stands up from his desk, and walks around it to pull Tyler into a hug. "Where the hell have you been?"

Tyler hugs back for a second before pulling away to shrug. "Around, I suppose. I wanted to ask you for... advice."

"Personal or legal?" Brendon's asking as he sits back down, adjusting his blazer, and grabbing a pen from his pen cup to fiddle with while he talks to Tyler.

"Uh, personal. I already have a lawyer." Tyler half-grins awkwardly as he sits in a chair across from the desk. "I wanted some, um, relationship advice."

"Is Jenna pregnant?" The man raises and eyebrow and Tyler physically pales.

"Um, no. I--I divorced her in August." Tyler scratches the back of his neck. He thought Brendon would've, like, checked him out or something. Brendon always _knows_ things. It's the lawyer thing.

"You? Jenna? _Divorce?_ I can't believe it. _Why?"_

"Things weren't working out. Uh... Can I just--can we get to the advice part?"

"Of course, of course. Tell Papa Brendon everything."

"I'm not--I'm not going to call you 'papa.'" Tyler makes a bit of a face. "I don't know how to explain this, but... you won the bet."

"The bet...?"

"Y'know, _the bet._ The one you started a few years ago when Pete was the receptionist."

"Wait wait _wait--_ the _gay_ bet? Oh, I am so--"

"You aren't doing _shit,_ Brendon." Tyler glares at him. "You're going to shut up and give me advice." Tyler explains his situation, briefly, telling Brendon that after the whole _kerfuffle_ with Jenna, he's been staying with Josh, and that it's just... _weird._ "I mean, I used to have a big, fat, _gay_ crush on him when we were in high school, but apparently I still _do._ Um, on New Years, we, like..."

"Did you fuck him?"

"No, Brendon, that didn't happen. On New Years we sort of kissed when the ball dropped, then we kissed a few more times, and we were sort of cuddling and then we fell asleep watching Chicago and when I woke up he was holding me in his sleep and, I don't know, I--I really like him, but I don't know if I can be with him. I'm scared."

"Why can't you be with him? Just because you had a shitty wife doesn't mean you can't have a healthy relationship with someone else."

"I know, but he's just--he's done so much for me, and he's been a really good friend to me, and I'm just afraid of screwing that up if I said something. I mean, I don't--I'm not expecting us to go from best friends to an old married couple in a day, but... I wouldn't mind having someone to be with. I mean, he gets what I'm going through, he's super nice, my parents met him and they like him, and his parents love me, we have a bunch of the same interests and we get along, like, really well."

"You want my advice? I say that you should just go for it. Fuck all the bullshit about needing to give yourself time. I mean, you're, what, twenty eight? You're twenty eight; you're going to die within the next eighty years. If you want to be with him, then do it. Even if he says no, from what you've told me about this guy, I don't feel like he's the kind of person who would let a crush ruin a friendship."

"But what if he is?"

"But what if he _isn't?_ If he isn't, then this could be your chance at happily ever-fucking-after, bro. What if you're meant to be with him and you let the opportunity go just because you're afraid? Fuck--if I let _my_ fear run me, I never would've even _met_ my husband. Like, I'd probably still be sitting on my mom's couch in Vegas, eating Cheetos, smoking pot, and watching Family Guy reruns."

"How would I even go about this?" Tyler looks at him almost helplessly.

"Just tell him. Be up front about it."

Tyler waits until after February to do anything. Jenna ends up with five years in a federal prison, then five more years of parole. After the trial is said and done with, Tyler makes a move.

He sits Josh down on the couch in the living room in their shared apartment, and he's quiet for a good bit before he looks at the man in front of him, and says, "Josh, I like you. More than friends." His voice cracks, and Tyler feels so, _so_ scared. He's on the verge of tears.

Josh's cheeks are a little red and he doesn't make eye contact with Tyler. "I know you do. I like you too. I just--I haven't... been with anyone in a long time, for obvious reasons."

"Fuck, I shouldn't have said anything," Tyler mutters as he starts getting up from the couch, probably leaving to go hide somewhere.

Josh grabs his hand before he's out of reach. "I didn't even get to say anything, Tyler. Sit down."

Tyler doesn't sit. He's sort of panicking. "You're turning me down, Josh. I don't--I don't--I can't handle that right now."

"Again, I haven't even said anything. Please sit down."

So... Tyler sits, and Josh hugs him. He hugs back, even though every fiber of his being is telling him that there's, like, no way that this could turn out good.

"Tyler, I love you," Josh states. "In a more than friend way." He still has Tyler in his arms, and he isn't letting go quite yet. "I've probably loved you for a long time, but it actually hit me a few months ago."

"What does that mean, then?" Tyler mumbles the question into Josh's shoulder, not pulling away from the hug yet, not even having the nerve to.

"I don't know that, and I don't... If we were to... be together..." Josh pulls away from the hug, and he's giving Tyler a sort of sad look. "I don't know if I could give you want you want, or need."

"It's not like I want to marry you. I mean, my last marriage didn't work out very well, and I don't... I don't think I'm really ready for a _super_ committed relationship, at least not yet. I just... I'm not against the idea of at least having someone to just... be with, and apparently we both like each other, a _lot,_ so I mean..."

"I'm not really against that idea either. I might be a lousy boyfriend, though, dude."

"Like I'd be much better. I mean, up until recently, I was a closeted lawyer who was being abused by his wife."

"And I'm a drag queen who hasn't been able to have sex in five years."

"I mean... we're both past our sexual peaks anyways, bro, and I also personally believe that relationships shouldn't be based solely around sex, or that it should really even matter." Tyler shrugs, and smiles shyly into his lap, praying this is going where he thinks it's going.

"We also have to consider the fact that I have a thing for skinny lawyers who keep my apartment stocked with huckleberry honey."

"Exactly, and I have a thing for buff drag queens who dropped out of art school."

"Is that it? Are we... are we doing this?" Josh is biting his cheek, and trying not to smile at Tyler.

Tyler bites his lip, and nods slowly. "I think so."


End file.
